


Last Forever

by stchristopher



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, maybe mild internalized homophobia ?, sad ending sorry, they have feelings 4 each other but wont admit it :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stchristopher/pseuds/stchristopher
Summary: Their relationship had always been complicated. Arguments about petty things, constant bickering, insults. And for some time now, visits at Jumin’s penthouse, nice dinners, and very long nights. For a time it had been wonderful, though there was that constant pang of loneliness. It was not a “true” relationship.Jumin would never tell his father. Zen would never tell his fans. And for a time they both thought that it would last.





	

Jumin Han was not sure of what he had expected. The dinner was quiet, the sound of clinking silverware and glass and idle talk. Zen avoided his gaze and took to more wine than usual; but that did not surprise him either. He had done the very same but was disappointed at it’s affect. Or lack thereof. The edge of the evening wouldn’t wear off. He was given only a muddled head and scattered thoughts but they were all about the man ahead of him.

There were no smiles like there usually were, or laughing.

“Are you unwell?” Jumin asked from across the small table. The food was fine, he knew. He had tasted it himself. But Zen’s plate was mostly untouched as he pushed food aside with a fork and, once again, paid most of his attention to his wine glass.

“I’m fine.” Said Zen quietly, and even Jumin wasn’t dense enough for that lie to go over his head. Captivating red eyes passed over him and Jumin offered him the faintest of smiles. Zen ignored it, and the smile was gone.

Dinner continued with even less talk.

 

Jumin had underestimated the amount of wine the other had had. Zen had never struggled so badly with the buttons on Jumin’s shirt. He fumbled, lost the button, couldn’t get it out, cursed under his breath.

“- Damn things won’t come off-” He grumbled, almost tearing the shirt as he tugged. Jumin reached, took Zen’s hands gently into his. They fit so well.

“Slow down.” He said quietly and Zen shrugged his hands away, choosing instead to snatch him by his jaw and pull him close into a kiss that was more sloppy than it was passionate. But Jumin was not one to complain with what he had.

They both tasted of wine, a fine, sharp taste that couldn’t be differentiated between who was who. Zen’s eager hands found his hair, his neck, his shoulders. Found his shirt and pulled it from where it was tucked.  
Zen had always been warm and so when his fingertips brushed Jumin’s stomach, his sides, it felt unwelcomingly familiar. Zen’s fingertips pressed into his skin until it hurt but he didn’t push the other away. His hands reached further, roamed his chest, all angles Zen knew very well by now. There was an amount of fervor, a certain sort of panic to Zen now that had never been there before. A certain desperation as though he would never touch Jumin again…

Fondly, Jumin thought of their first time in his bedroom with Zen complaining relentlessly. Even as Jumin shrugged him from his jacket, then his shirt, and everything else, he insisted the room smelled like cat… Truthfully, it hadn’t, but it occupied Zen’s mind long enough to get him into bed.

It had been slow then; and Jumin had learned, to Zen’s horror, that the sexy and renowned actor, Hyun Ryu was, in fact, a virgin.

“Don’t you dare tell _anyone_!” Zen had forced him to promise and Jumin had pressed a kiss to his lips then.

“What’s there to tell? You’re not a virgin anymore.”

That had gotten a satisfying blush from the other that had stained his pale cheeks brilliantly. Jumin wouldn’t ever forget that half-wild, half-love sick glare he had also received.

And then he had thought, foolishly, that they would last forever.

The thought shattered like broken glass when Zen bit his bottom lip harshly, and this time Jumin did push him away. Zen blinked back at him stupidly.

“What are you doing?” He asked dully and Zen furrowed his brow.

“Kissing you? What’s your problem.” He slurred and tried to move forward again. Jumin held him firmly at a distance.

“I don’t have a problem.” He glared, squinting at the other. “But you do. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I told you earlier, I’m fine- “

“You lied.”

A silence passed between them and for once, Zen didn’t avert his gaze. There was truth there, somewhere within those blood-like eyes. Jumin had always found them quite pretty; unique, beautiful. In the momentary silence, he let go of his shoulder and reached slowly forward. His knuckles found the other’s cheek, knew the curve of his face very well.

It seemed that Zen would almost lean into the touch, perhaps kiss him again, better this time. But he shook his head, pushing the touch away, and said,

“Can’t we get on with it?” He sounded impatient. Perhaps he wanted to go home. Swallowing, Jumin nodded. They continued.

The subtle panic returned though Zen put effort into hiding it now. He allowed Jumin to tug off his jacket, shirt, and tear the belt from his pants. He gave tiny protests when Jumin pushed him to the bed, forced him to sit at it’s edge. Jumin allowed himself a moment to revel in the other’s appearance; Zen worked out, often and so his chest was defined, his stomach firm. He was strong, perhaps even stronger than him; but never once had he asserted that strength. His hands graced his chest, a fingertip rolling over a firm nipple. No matter the tense mood Jumin was glad to find Zen erect beneath the fabric of his boxer shorts. And he was glad that, after he tugged them down, Zen still blushed harshly when exposed.

  
“What are you doing?” Zen’s breath was pitched and he glared down at Jumin who merely stared back. He had the decency to kiss the inside of Zen’s thighs before his hand took the base of Zen’s cock and his mouth took the tip. Zen only had a second to protest further before he was choked off.

Jumin prided himself in being a man who often knew what he was doing; he never took a job without prior knowledge of how to do it best. And it was no surprise that he knew every press of the tongue needed to get Zen’s back arching. And given how often their visits…. Jumin was very well-practiced by now.  
Zen had never learned to be quiet and so he whimpered, using a free hand to clamp over his mouth, while the other was buried in Jumin’s hair.  
Jumin was slow; he liked most things slow, despite Zen’s usual protests. He pressed kisses where they were needed. Dragged a tongue along Zen’s length; gripped the base of his cock and made sure to give it attention, as well.  
Jumin could take all of Zen if he pleased. He chose instead to move slow, peer up at the other with cool eyes.  
He pressed his palms against his thighs so that he might have more room.  
Drawing closer, his grip on his hair tightened and he held Jumin as best he could, threatening to roll his hips, nearly fucking his face.  
He had done that once before, to Jumin’s shock.  
Not that he had disliked it.

  
“W-wait-” Zen’s voice was haggard, his breathing heavy. “Sl-slow down…!”

  
Had his mouth been free he would have said, I am going slow. And Zen would have likely hit the top of his head. Since Zen did nothing to stop him, Jumin gripped his thighs tighter, moved a pace faster. Soon, Zen was keeling over, just a bit, unable to hide his moans, loud, beautiful things. What was there to expect from such a trained voice? Jumin had heard him sing and loved it, but perhaps he loved this sound better on him.  
Zen came gripping Jumin’s hair painfully though he did not mind. And Jumin did not pull away.  
Zen hated that; but only because it embarrassed him. Even after all this time.  
Jumin pulled away slowly, neatly using a finger to wipe away from his lips what remained.

“Move.” Said Jumin promptly.

“… What?” Zen glared, confused.

Jumin stood, stepped out of his own pants already beltless, and undone. He pushed his palms against Zen’s chest so that he fell backwards against the mattress. He kissed him, enjoying the exhaust that still lingered on him. He locked his hands with Zen’s, pinned him.

Zen’s skin was a contrast against Jumin’s; where Zen looked like the moon, pale, cold, Jumin looked warmer - and it was odd, given their personalities. Jumin roamed to his jaw, neck, and left painful marks that turned shades of red, of purple. He ground into him, still quite hard himself; and Zen whimpered, still sensitive from moments earlier.

“A-are you going to start or what?” He muttered against Jumin’s neck. Already sweat was making his skin glow. Jumin hummed.

“I prefer it slower.” He said. “Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

Where there usually would be a small chuckle came instead a sort of tsk of impatience. And Zen was reaching, finding the hem of his boxers.

“Zen-” Jumin began. He reached for his wrists, then allowed him to undress him finally. That sense of desperation was still faintly there. And Jumin was beginning feel that he was simply rushing.

“J-just-” Zen wrapped his arms tight around Jumin’s neck so that he couldn’t see him. “Get on with it.”

 _Get it over with._ Jumin feared he would, feared he had meant to say, but he, again, pushed the thought behind him. Zen felt hot and eager and desperate and so Jumin, at first ,began slowly, kissing him, taking all of his mouth, finding his jaw all the while Zen ground against him, near whimpering. He moved Zen so that he could reach behind him, find the tie that bound his hair. Tugging it out, white hair fell down his back near gracefully. Satisfied, Jumin pushed him back down. His hair fell around him, the way it always did; halo like. Jumin had called it beautiful once. And Zen had blushed. Had smiled. Had thanked him.

Jumin dipped down and kissed him hard, that panic that Zen felt beginning to leak into him. He grabbed one of Zen’s legs, tugged it up so that he would become exposed, so that the angle would be perfect. All the while, near quivering, Zen held onto his neck and only muttered, “ _Please hurry-_ ” as though he might die without the other. And while he held Zen down, when he pushed inside of him, when Zen pressed his forward against his shoulder and cried out, he thought to how this night began, a single text message that read, “This is the last night. I’ll be over at 7.”

Suddenly, there was only Zen and a head muddled with too much wine. Jumin covered him in savage marks that stung and Zen created red lines down his back that burned. Jumin held him, too, until they were so close it ached; until there was at some moments, no way to tell where one began and the other ended. He listened to him say his name over and over, _“Jumin, Jumin, Jumin-”._

As though he meant it.

Jumin pretended he meant it.

He meant it himself, when instead of Zen, he said _“Ryu”_ , finding it smoother on the tongue than his stage name.

They held each other helplessly, Zen a shuddering mess, his eyes betraying something he wouldn’t tell Jumin; and when they were both close he held Jumin’s face and sounded as though he could hardly breathe and said, _“A-ah, Jumin, I-”_

_You..?_

_You what..?_

_Say it..._

He did not say it. Zen came a second time saying at least his name, gripping him so tight it ached. He nails created crescent moon indents into Jumin’s arm and he shuddered, and shuddered, and shuddered.

Jumin fell apart just the same, the sensation nearly too much for the other. They held each other and caught their breaths.

 _I love you, I love you..._ He thought but did not dare say it.

Bracing himself over Zen after things had begun to slow, he peered down at the other and blinked.

Reaching, Jumin wiped a tear that had fallen from the corner of Zen’s eye.

Hoarsely, “What’s… bothering you?” It came between breaths. Zen stared up at him, hesitated, hesitated.

“I’m fine.” He whispered. And Jumin felt as though that was the only thing he had truly said all night.

 

Things had not ended there, but when they finally did, Zen lay with his head on Jumin’s chest, still as stone. Afraid to fall asleep lest morning come, Jumin found interest in the other’s long hair, running fingers through it.

“Never cut your hair…” Jumin said into the darkness and he felt Zen stir. He was not asleep either. He hoped that would last. “It would be a shame. It’s very beautiful.” Zen did not answer, only settled more comfortably against the other. And Jumin was content with just that. He dropped the strands and seconds passed, until, “… Is this truly the last time?”

For a moment, Jumin did not think he would respond. Zen’s body was tense against his and so he knew he was not asleep; but still, he would not speak. Jumin waited, would wait for as long as he had to. Would prefer to only wait, and never know the answer.

“Yes.” Said Zen.

He had expected that but still his heart stuttered as though it would crack.

“… Then if that’s how it is,” He said. “Won’t you sit up? I would like to kiss you, one more time.”

“… Don’t be such a sap.” Zen tried to snap, but he moved faster than he had perhaps intended.

He kissed Jumin slowly, having given up his panicked, desperate visage to just… This. A submissive and tired thing. A weary lover. And eventually, sleep fell over them.

 

It was the warmth of sunlight through the curtains that had woken him. His clothes lay alone, scattered around the bedroom, and there was no slender, pale figure beside him. He did not know the time, suspected it was later than his usual morning routine. The panging of a hangover thudded behind his eyes and while he sat up, he reached and found that the spot where the other had laid had become cold long ago.

He reached to the night stand, deciding to focus on the headache rather than the circumstances that were filling his chest, his stomach like a sort of poison. And gradually it became worse. He found his phone.

There were two unread messages.

Both from five in the morning.

Both from Zen.

 

_“Don’t ask me to come over again.”_

_“Please.”_

Please, Jumin repeated, and decided the desperate sound to it was because if he did ask, Zen would be unable to say no. And that comforted him.

In that lonely, empty bedroom, it comforted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to original tumblr post: http://winerose.tumblr.com/post/150763413527/last-forever-juminzen-fic


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